main navigation

Pure As the Driven Slush (Personal Journal)

Sofi and Heather, discussing wrinkle treatments.
so, yeah, we kind of kiss a lot.
Heather and Mark, (mis)behaving typically.

The lovely Becca, contributing to overflowing ashtrays everywhere.

Noel, dripping with glama.

Heather and Seska, mad sprinkler maurauders.

Heather and Jane, who are usually a good deal nicer to one another.

Heather and Sabrina, who steals hats like the wanton hussy she is.

Hanne and Heather, blurrily sexpotting the photo booth at the AVAM.

Aaron, Elise and Heather exploring the fine art of interpretive dance.

cast & crew: the locals
Sofia ("Yo pug!" also suffices)
My five-year-old pug. She shows up plenty in the journal and many candid photographs simply because she is consistently attached to the leg of my pants and she is my child.

Rita, Zöe, and Flora
The three gatas of Chez Scarlet. Last year my fourth, Rosie, developed sudden renal failure and had to be put down. Until two years ago, my menagerie also included Moe, my white lop-eared classroom bunny.

My very best friend in Minneapolis, who I tempt into shopping, cocktailing and lazing about too often for our own good (though as the years have passed, she's begun to initiate the tempting herself rather often). Who looks uncannily like Emily Watson, I might add.

The rather sudden and quite unexpected (clever, talented, creative, brilliant, dead sexy, funny, charming, fantastic, sarcastic, cynical, romantic, affectionate, incredible, celebratory-of-my-unorthodox-dykiness) love of my life who lives in Seattle. And no, I don't question this "love of my life" business. And yes, I know that's grossly out of character. And yes: to any questions you might have about it, yes is the answer. Save that no, I'm not going to say much more here, because once I start waxing poetic, I can't ever seem to stop and I'll make the lot of you throw up.

The Girl
My most recent ex-girlfriend, with whom I am still friends (because, as you may well know, the rules with dykes are all too often that post-breakup, you either become arch-enemies or best friends. Ah, my queendom for some middle ground).

Heather and Carissa
One of my many hard-to-put-in-a-box relationships. Carissa simply calls me "her other Heather," because she's getting off on the harem vibe, while Heather and I roll our eyes in unison. We have a lot of drinky dinners, mishmoshing of each other's issues, relationship networking and the occasional strange and touchy-feely set of hours in the wee morning. Heather (who spearheaded Dykes Do Drag) and Carissa are friends and family I spend a lot of time with, often at Happy Hour, but not always. Now and then we even stick to coffee. They used to be very close neighbors until -- sniff! -- they moved a good deal further away. But taxis suffice.

My gay boyfriend. Everyone needs at least one of those, too. But not everyone is as lucky as me, because I have the Best One Ever. Scott not only is a brilliant colorist who tends to my locks on a barter system, he's sweet and funny as hell, he's a handsome critter (and single, I should mention), and he likes coffee and my dog as much as I do.

... is a goddess and fellow local artist. She's modeled for/with me a few times, may be the most amazing jeweler the world over, and we spend hours talking art, love, creative chaos and divine inspiration when our equally overbooked schedules permit.

My gentle giant of a kickboxing/boxing training partner. He's a Dominican Republic native who bizarrely came to the Minneapolis via Iowa, and he gives me more marks and bruises than any play partner I've ever had. He's not been informed of this irony.

The goddess of hair at Hair Police, where I seem to run into/network with far too many people whilst bearing a head full of foils. My colorist and stylist usually has her schedule overbooked because everyone I know wants to see her. Our appointments also tend to linger longer than they should and turn into wine-drinking outings because neither of us knows how to shut the hell up and we're both ex-Chicagoans.

the girl posse
An ever-shifting group, this is the organic clan created on much needed all-girl nights out, that usually includes at least one of the cast and crew here, as well as other friends, Dykes Do Drag gals, Becca's pals or out-of-town friends visiting.

...was once my neighbor down the block, but is now my neighbor a few streets away. He's my camera guru I have coffee-mornings full of ADD-inspired conversation and guy-talk with somewhat regularly.

My firechasing friend and non-girlfriend-girlfriend (who finally got a nickname). Because everyone needs one, you know. No, really. Even if she does pilfer drags off your cigarettes, nor ever let you live down the fact that a job managed to keep you from making it to your first date. She is deadly gorgeous and just bloody fantastic, so we let her have those giant faults only somewhat grudgingly.

My sometimes-kickboxing partner, occasional model, and the occasional shared-waster of my Saturdays. She's part of the growing umlaut club in my life, and one of these bizarre people with a job that lets her email me all day and still gives her a paycheck.

My (ex) partner, my once best friend, my (former) roommate, and for a long time, my photographer. Our romantic relationship didn't end well years back, so we're still not talking or seeing one another, but it doesn't feel right not to have him on this page, or not in my life.

the out-of-town (ir)regulars

My trusty helper with Femmerotic and Scarleteen, a source of all-day conversation while we both work from home, and one of my closest and most-loved friends. I adore Seska and her partner James and we visit each other at least once a year.

My oldest web chum. Long-distance bills are not, however, our friends, so we try and make do with ICQ and the occasional cross-contintental visit. We generally fail miserably and pay the long-distance bills in spite, usually while in bathtubs across the country. Jane and I have been friends since the humble beginnings of both of our web empires and are often entirely guilty of cronyism.

The only friend I have ever had who is an heiress in recovery, and a woman with whom I have so much in common it is either eerie & terrifying for the world, funny as hell or all of the above. You all should be very grateful I've no desire to head back to England, for mass mayhem would ensue. (Addendum: for those select few of you who know full well what happened when I DID head back to the UK to see Bri for her wedding, you now know I wasn't kidding.)

Were it not for Hanne, I would likely have expired long ago. My business partner, partner-in-kvetching, occasional co-author, and the only woman I know besides myself who works in sexuality, was a classically trained opera singer, AND has a shrine for Sophie Tucker.

The sacred keeper of my photo bloopers, and smile and giggle fetishist. I have met few men in the world who I love more dearly. He's usually the reason my monitor is splattered with coffee, and bravely takes on the job of keeping my spirits up when they sink to a low point.

Peter is another one of those men, too. An adorable kinkster in Seattle with the World's Most Glorious Tummy™, he helps out at Scarleteen now and then and offers me support (and I likewise) whenever I need it. he's also the only other person I know who gets shivers down his spine at the mere mention of electrical play like I do.

Hanne's partner who just happens to be the cutest thing since sliced bread, and my very favorite geek in the whole world.

My mother currently lives in Chicago, but we talk plenty, more so as the years go by. She's a brilliant hospital administrator and infectious disease educator and a darn good mom to boot.

My mothers fabulous and hilarious sidekick and partner.

My father also currently lives in Chicago (with a healthy distance between he and my mother, who should be kept from the same room at all costs) and is, and always has been, my very best buddy, even through a lot of tumult.

A longtime member and friend who I tend to talk to a great deal, and proof-positive that not ALL Southern men are utter assholes (yes, I know that's a terrible thing to say, I do).

Assorted scarleteen and scarlet letters volunteers
I swear, I have the best volunteers in the world. Besides working their bums off for nothing, they're also great to talk to and dish with. Some of the regular dishers are Michele, Todd, Lisa, Bob, Malcolm, Kythryne, Chris, Caro, Koi, Lin, Kitten, Danny, Gumdrop, Bob, Ron, Beppie, Laurel and a motley crew of others.

other assorted regulars
Jhames, Steve, Gray, Heather (#3), Kelly, the baby Zoe, Jeff, Becka, Debra, Nicolas, Todd, Lisa, Stacy, Gary, Arlene, Billy, Molly, Brian (#2), Jaime, Audra, Lauren, Emira, Fred, Jim, Shelby and a whole lot of ex-so-and-so's.

people, places and things
Pandora's Cup
My other home office, where Sofia is resident mascot (and I get yelled at if I go without her in tow).

Chez Scarlet, Home or The Pad
My place of residence. I live in a funky, possibly too-hip neighborhood in Uptown Minneapolis, in a highly fabulous flat in the treetops with lots of unpainted wood, built-ins, sunlight, a tiled sunporch full of plants, many piles of paper and more cafes in a ten-block radius then there are Baptist churches in Alabama.

My sangha & dharma center
A beautiful vietnamese zen meditation center a rather long walk, moderate bus ride, or short cab hop away. Some of my Friday or Sunday mornings are spent there, and it makes me tremendously happy and centered. I've been bad about it in the last year though, and need to get back in the habit again.

Training for Life
Where I sometimes teach and go to punch the crap out of heavy bags or try and hit Dante on a regular basis and often injure myself.

Dykes Do Drag
Every third weekend, I live here. Seriously. It's the best thing in Minneapolis ever. So much so, that I tend to be unable to shut(ter) up about it. But if I didn't do some work with the troupe, and call a few members friends, I might be mistaken for a groupie. Which I absolutely am not. Nuh-uh. No way. Not me.

All content and design © 1997 - 2001 Heather Corinna. All rights reserved.
text nav: journalphotographyprose & poetrybiographymembers entryjoinget 'yer ass home